


Drawing in Charcoal

by pairatime



Category: Shelter (2007)
Genre: Death, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 22:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7549972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pairatime/pseuds/pairatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting bad news she finds herself reflecting on her children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawing in Charcoal

**Author's Note:**

> Smallfandomfest 18, Shelter: Zach: "Set pre-movie: Mothers just know these things. Zach's mother already knows-- she's just waiting for Zach to be ready to tell her.
> 
> Per-movie it’s not what I had in mind when I read the prompt but I like it and I hope you do to.

Her hand flew to her mouth, trying to hold back the sob as she read the letter again. Her eyes kept coming back to the words terminal, inoperable, and fatal. They jumped out at her. She could hear them in the doctor’s voice echoing them over and over.

The paper fell from her hand, falling back to the table as her knees gave out as she sunk into her chair. She was going to die. Soon. Too soon

She had known it could happen. The doctors had been honest about that. She had ignored and missed the lump too long and then kept putting off seeing the doctors but there was always shifts to be worked. Shopping to be done. School functions for Jenna and Zach. So many things to do but so little time….so little time before they’re grown, before…

Wiping her eyes she pushed herself to her feet. She still had some time. She wasn’t dying today or tomorrow. The letter said she might have months, maybe a year if she fought. She had time left. Take to make sure her family was ready. Make sure her children would be okay.

She walked across the small home stopping at the door to her daughters room. Closed as always she opened it. Smiling at the handful of clothing thrown around the bed from where Jenna had tried them on only to discarded them before heading off to school, or that diner where that boy she liked worked more likely.

Hopefully they were only at the diner and that boy didn’t take Jeanne back to his place like that last boy had done. It was Jeanne’s last year of high school and she was so close to passing enough classes to finish, graduate. Her daughter only had to make it a few more months she thought as she cleaned up the scattered clothing to put them away, sighing deeply at the condom that fell from one of them.

Her daughter was growing up far too fast. Jeanne hadn’t said anything, ask anything about…at least Jeanne was using protection she though, setting it on the night stand before making her way from the room, closing the door before walking to the one beside it.

She smiled at the papers that covered it. All the pictures, the drawing, that wouldn’t fit on their fridge. Running her hand over the old carryon drawing of the family her fingers lingered over her husband, hammer and hardhat just like he looked at the job site, then her two children, Jeanne all in silver covered in all the rings and necklaces she wears while Zach is in his school uniform of khaki and blue, just like Gabe next to him. 

Smiling at the pair she pushed open the unlatched door. Ever since Zach had gotten into the private school and met Gabe they had been so close. Gabe was like a brother to Zach. And to Zach, was he only a brother? At times it almost seemed a crush. 

And Gabe was a good kid, yes he got her son into trouble now and then she reminded herself as she put away the skateboard that had been left on the floor. But Zach could use a friend like that. He was far too serious for someone his age. Gabe helped pull Zach out of his shell. Helped him make friends. Helped his learn to surf. Which she still wasn’t sure if that was good or terrifying. 

But her boy clearly enjoyed being pulled out into the world she remembered fondly as she looked at the drawing Zach had brought back from Mexico with him after his trip with Gabe’s family. So many people and places she knew nothing about.

Her son was so much better at hiding himself then his sister. But she was better then both of them at finding. Grinning she pulled an art book out from between the mattress and box spring opening it to the first page.

The different colors of charcoal dances across the page. She could feel the happiness and joy of the morning she’d gotten the art supplies for Zach. He’s almost forgotten his other presents in his eagerness to sketch the tree and everyone around it. It might have been the best gift she had ever given him. 

Slowly she turned the pages to see the different works of art her son had made. The book was filled with full pictures and half drawings all jumbled together, sharing pages and sometimes over lapping. But one page made her stop.

Unlike the others it was nothing but half sketched people, no, men because each and every one of them was a man. But that wasn’t the oddest part, their color was, or the lack of it really. Holding surf boards or alone they covered the white paper in dark charcoal only. She flipped back and forward through the other pages to see colors of every shade she knew her son to have.

But that page was all in black. Turing back to it she studied the men. None of them were complete and while a couple might have been the same person most where completely different people. And she didn’t recognize any of them. None were Gabe or Billy or Justin. Her son was growing up.

Closing the thick book with a sigh she returned it to its place before scoping up his clothing into the empty basket and retreating from the room.

Both her children were changing, becoming adults, both far too soon and both to unwilling to share it with her. Not yet anyways. But then had she been any different? She had hidden so many things from her mother at their age but as she looked at the letter again she wasn’t sure if she would be there for them when they were ready.

But she had to try to be. To do everything she could to give her children time. Picking up the letter she read it again, there head to be something she could do.


End file.
